Love Scene
by Mikelbob
Summary: Sex, lies, danger, stolen cars, and magic. Yep, it's just another day for Hank Kirby III. I've been writing for a while, but this is the story that pretty much solidified my love of telling stories.


LOVE SCENE

By: Dean Westchester

05/22/10

I'm Hank Kirby III, and today is not going as well as I had planned. See when I had set out this morning, well more like this afternoon, I had a clear sense of how I would handle this particular case of mine. Oh yeah, I should explain, I'm sort of a private investigator. Only I don't do much investigating and I'm not very good at keeping things private, but I'm still an investigator at any rate and I look into problems involving supernatural type stuff, like vampires or werewolves and such. I've been called a wizard since I do know a bit of magic, but I'm far from wizard levels, I'm more like Harry Potter if he'd flunked out of magic school. Anyways, this case I was working seemed pretty simple enough. Old dude wanted me to make sure his much younger wife wasn't cheating on him with the pool boy and using magic to cover it up. Well too bad for old man moneybags because his wife was cheating on him with the pool boy, but she wasn't using magic to cover it up. She was using magic to try and kill the old man so she could get all his money. Isn't love grand?

Old man moneybags didn't take the news very well, I'm pretty sure he had a mini stroke when I told him that his young and drop dead sexy wife had tried to kill him. Lucky for me though, old man moneybags wanted his wife stopped and he was willing to pay whatever it took. Now operating your own business is costly and operating in such dangerous environments warrants hazard pay, so when I told him that I'd do it for ten grand I was being totally rational and not at all greedy. Don't judge me. I'd like to see you turn down a chance to make tons of money like that.

So anyways, the old man agreed and cut me a check right then and there in my office, which was more like a broom closet that had been labeled as an office and rented out to anyone dumb enough to pay for it, meaning me. I took the old man's check and stuffed it in my pocket and then escorted him from my broom office and to the street where I called him a cab. After he was gone I walked around the office building to the parking lot where my old jeep was parked, it was once my grandfather's and by the looks of it he'd been rough on it. The jeep is your typical Vietnam era jeep, no real roof or doors, or windows, just roll bars and a windshield. I then hopped into my jeep and set out to find Mrs. Moneybags. About two hours later and fifty bucks worth of gas I found her.

Mrs. Moneybags was at the mall, shopping for pretty much anything and everything she could wear, touch, eat, drink, or see. I had no idea how long she'd been there but she already had three big red bags hanging from one arm, and then I noticed that the pool boy was with her. He was loaded down with at least six red bags of his own, no doubt filled with her crap that she had purchased with her husband's money. I made a mental note that the pool boy was actually a really good looking guy, like male model good looking. Not that I'm attracted to men or anything, because I'm not, but he had the kind of looks that draw your eyes to him. Like when something nasty happens on TV and you want to look away but your eyes won't let you, same thing. After collecting another two bags of stuff, lady moneybags and the pool boy were leaving the shop, so I figured I should follow them.

I guess I should explain why that is a lot easier said than done. Following people isn't hard, especially in a crowed place like a shopping mall, but when you look like I do it becomes a whole other ball game. See I stand just under six foot two, and I am covered in tattoos from my neck to my feet. Not to mention my attire, that today consisted of my brown hiking boots, dark blue jeans that sagged enough to show my Jolly Roger boxers, and a black muscle shirt. Throw in the big ear rings, my chin stud, my necklace, the Jolly Roger belt buckle, and the silver chain link bracelet that hung loosely from my left wrist, and I was hard to miss. Oh yeah, almost forgot about my hair, I have a long Mohawk that starts at my forehead and ends at the base of my neck. I don't spike it anymore though, I'm too lazy, so it just sticks up all over the place or hangs around my face and looks like something tribal warriors may have worn a long time ago.

Now that you get the basic idea of what I look like, you can see how blending in with a crowd of rich people at the rich people mall could be a bit difficult. Somehow I managed it though. I followed them through two more stores and then back to their limousine, no lie, they were riding around in a midnight black limo. Now I had a choice to make, either let them get away and start the search again later because there was no way I could make it to the jeep and drive over here before they left; or I could find another means of transportation and continue the pursuit. I choose option B. Don't judge me; it's like I always say, you have to do whatever it takes to get the job done. So I used some magic to pop the locks and I hot wired a 1967 Chevy Impala and continued to follow the happy couple.

Now just because the impala is cherry red and in mint condition, thusly making anything with eyes stare at it when it goes by, doesn't mean I can't follow a limo without it knowing. You just have to know how to keep your distance and predict the targets movements, not to mention that the driver probably couldn't see over the pile of red shopping bags in his rear view. I tailed them all the way back to moneybags manor. The house was massive and ridiculously ostentatious. I parked the impala on the street and I watched. The limo stopped in front of the front door, pool boy got out first and he helped Mrs. Moneybags out. They strode off to the door as a battalion of servants flooded towards the car, fetching all the red bags and several black bags I hadn't seen earlier. That lady knew how to spend her husband's money, that much was certain. Once the servants had made their way into the house the limo pulled off somewhere, I assumed to a large garage that was home to at least thirty other cars.

I needed to sneak onto the property and if I could get inside the place and have a look around. Not a problem is Old man moneybags was home, but he wasn't and I had a feeling that the lady of the house was careful enough to keep strangers out of her home. I needed a disguise. Unfortunately I didn't bring any supplies with me, all my gear was still sitting in my jeep. I searched the impala and discovered all kinds of nice presents the owner had left me. The first of which was a very nice aviator jacket, with matching sunglasses I might add, lying in the back seat. I also found a clip board in the glove box, apparently the owner of this fine car was a pilot and this clip board was his flight log. And then in the back of the trunk in an old gym bag I found the best present of them all, a collared shirt with a company logo just over the heart, it said _Robin's Wings_. This stuff would do just fine. I slipped the shirt on, it didn't smell bad or anything, but it didn't have fresh out of the washer smell either. After that I slid on the jacket and put on the glasses, I grabbed the clip board and made my way to the front door.

I knocked and a servant answered the door. He looked like Alfred from the Batman cartoons. He eye balled me as if sizing me up for a coffin. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice was quiet and faintly British.

"Yes, I'm hear to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Wellsworth about their upcoming flight, may I speak to them?" I kept my face straight and tried my best to put a subtle southern drawl on the words.

"Mr. Wellsworth is not in at the moment, however Mrs. Wellsworth has just returned home," Alfred ushered me inside and closed the door behind me, "wait here and I shall see if she wishes to speak with you today."

"Much appreciated" I nodded my thanks to him and he shuffled off to find the lady. Now was my chance to get some information. Yes Alfred did tell me to stay there and yes he was a nice old guy, but I wasn't going to make any progress standing at the door, so I went exploring. The house seemed even bigger on the inside, and even the cheapest thing in the place was worth more than everything I owned put together. Other than that though, it was pretty ordinary. I had expected to find some evidence of magic being used in the house, but there was nothing, not even a candle. Well that meant that she wasn't casting the death spells from the house, which might not be a bad thing. See if I could get a hold of something tied to her magic I could use it to track down the spot where the spell had been cast. Magic is cool like that.

I called off my search when I heard Alfred's voice calling for me, and I hurried back to the front door. "Sorry," I said immediately, "I was looking for the restroom." Alfred gave me a skeptical look. "Is Mrs. Wellsworth ready to see me?"

"No," Alfred's voice was sharp, "she is not taking visitors at the moment, feel free to come back at a later time, perhaps Mr. Wellsworth will have returned by then."

"Alright," I drawled as I opened the door, "thanks for your time" I nodded to him and then let myself out. I heard Alfred shut the door behind me and I walked calmly back to my stolen car. I didn't start removing the disguise until I was at least two block away, just incase she had anyone watching me. Things may have just gotten easier. Lady moneybags wasn't casting spells from the house, so all I had to do was ask old man moneybags if she had any favorite getaways, someplace secluded and nearby. Chances were she was casting her spells from there, and judging by the fact that she wasn't receiving visitors, which is rich people speak for she was in the middle of having sex with the help, I guessed that she was getting her power from ritual acts of lust; in other words, really freaky sex.

I pulled the impala into a near by park. I wanted to be somewhere public in case the lady was smarter than I thought and she had someone tail me. I also chose this park because I didn't have my cell phone and this park is home to probably the last pay phone on Earth. I strode over to the phone, feeling cool as I did because I was still wearing the jacket and the glasses, I'd ditched the shirt, but I couldn't bring myself to take off the rest. I picked up the receiver in one hand, and placed my other hand over the part where all the change goes. _Open sesame,_ I was a minor spell and not like some super illegal grand heist or anything, the spell just tricked the phone into thinking it had been paid. Like I said before, magic is cool like that. I dialed old man moneybags and brought him up to speed on the events of the day, leaving out the parts about stealing and anything that might be too exciting for the old man's heart to handle. He told me to wait at the park and that he'd be there in five minuets. To my surprise he was, I later found out that he was only three blocks away at an ice cream shop indulging his sweet tooth.

I was sitting on the hood of my stolen ride when he arrived. He was a bit over dressed for the park, since he was wearing a silk suit that was probably worth as much as the impala. "Do you have a plan?" he asked without so much as a hello.

"Yeah," which was the truth, but the plan wasn't exactly solid since I was still missing a lot of important information about the people involved, "your wife isn't casting spells from the house, so I need to know if she has a favorite getaway nearby." The old man thought about it.

"In fact she does," he tapped a finger to his chin, "its very private and it isn't even on most maps, so its about the most secluded place someone can find in a big city like this one"

"Perfect, where is it?" I might have sounded a bit too eager, but what can I say I wanted this mess cleared up so I could go cash my check and then go find Mr. Robin and buy this car from him. Old man moneybags wrote down the name and address of his wife's hideout and then we parted ways. I looked at the note and I started to get a bad feeling about this trip. I waited until night was approaching; one because sneaking around is easier in the dark and two because night has magical significance. Once the sun had almost completely set I headed for the hideout.

The Love Scene was a very desecrate and very well hidden lesbian club the upper crust elites liked to go and get wild with their young and beautiful friends. The name was actually French but it translates to the love scene. Apparently lady moneybags liked to get freaky with other woman when she wasn't with the old man or the pretty pool boy, and apparently she owns the place and every Saturday night she throws a party. Not just any party though, the kind of parties that involve lots of illicit substances and lots of naked people doing a lot of fun things. Well I was right about the using sex for power thing; a ritual orgy is like the energizer bunny on crack when it comes to powering magic. From what I could tell so far, there were at least a dozen people at the club already and it was only 9 p.m. I wasn't sure what I should do next. I was torn. On the one hand I thought I should stop everything and save old man moneybags, but on the other hand a lesbian orgy did sound fun.

Sadly there was no time for fun, I had to stop the orgy and keep old man moneybags alive, well at least alive long enough for his check to clear. I searched my pockets for the switch blade I always carry with me, yeah I know its illegal but I like it so deal with it. The knife was in my pocket like it always was, it was now or never. I tossed the sunglasses in the passenger chair, shut the door, and made my way for the club's entrance. I was greeted by a butch looking woman, who's name was actually Butch. I flashed her a smile that said hi, I'm with the band. Apparently my smile was badass because she let me in without any problems. The club was like every club, black lights and neon, loud music that makes you want to start dancing until you fall down, and lots of pretty people doing things they know they shouldn't.

However, I wasn't really prepared for what I walked in on. Apparently the festivities were already underway because all the women in the club, all of whom were young and gorgeous, were lying on their backs in a circle. Each woman was doing something naughty and interesting to the women on either side of them; they were moaning and groaning in pleasure. My body decided that it wanted to say ta hell with the mission and let's get busy. My brain told my body to shut up and focus. Mrs. Wellsworth stood in the center of the circle, she too was naked, her arms were raised above her head and lightning was sparking all around her. She was preparing the spell, and by the looks of it, she was calling up a lightning bolt that was going to stop old man moneybags' heart once and for all. I cleared my throat as loudly as I could and coughed slightly, "excuse me, are you the manager because I want to file a complaint, there are boobs all over the floor! I nearly slipped and broke my neck!" I shouted over the thumping of the music. Lady moneybags opened her eyes and looked at me, her spell wavered, but she regained control of it.

"Who are you, how did you find this place!" she demanded, for being butt naked and surrounded by lightning and other naked ladies, she didn't seem to care much.

"I followed the scent of Chanel and pure evil," I wrinkled my nose as if I couldn't get the smell out of my nose, "lead me right to you" I beamed at her, she didn't seem to be bothered by my insults.

"My husband sent you didn't he," she frowned, "now I'll have to kill both of you." No sooner had she said that, the pool boy appeared from nowhere and decked me in the face. He caught me off guard, which is also why he managed to cuff me with a pair of the pink fuzzy handcuffs. Well plan A had backfired, on to plan B. I was kind of wishing I had come up with a plan B before I charged into club evil sex. I looked over my shoulder at the pool boy, who was still holding onto my cuffed hands as if I might escape the cuffs and he'd just slap them back on. "Hi, I'm Hank" I said politely. The pool boy didn't answer me. "Strong silent type huh, that's cool," I nodded me head in agreement with myself, "I tried that once, but everyone just thought I was a drug dealer"

"Silence!" hissed lady moneybags. Aw ha, I was irritating her. That was a good thing. The more I could distract her, the better the chances of her spell backfiring on her.

"Make me!" I shouted, "I have rites you know!" I was screaming at the top of my lungs. I don't know what she did, but I felt a wave of energy pulse through the room and all the women on the ground let out shrieks of pleasure. It was like each of them had just been injected with a double dose of ecstasy. Then I felt the surge of power around lady moneybags, she'd somehow double timed the energy gathering process and her spell was nearly complete. I was running out of time. I looked over my shoulder again, "Hey pool boy, what would you do if I told you I slipped the cuffs?" The pool boy looked shocked and he actually let out a subsonic huh like all true lackeys do. I saw him look down at the cuffs out of the corner of my eye, and that was when I threw my head back and smashed the back of my head against his face. I felt his nose break against my skull, which hurt me just as much as it did him. I heard him collapse to the floor whimpering in pain; apparently the pool boy had a low pain threshold.

Lady moneybags paid no attention to the little scuffle; she was far too close to the end to risk losing her focus now. That meant that if I didn't act fast old man moneybags would be investing in a coffin by tomorrow. I pulled off my impression of a martial artist and hopped in the air, sliding my cuffed hands from behind my back and under my feet, bringing them to rest at my chest. Oh yeah, I can be slick when I have to. I dashed across the distance between me and the circle of naked ladies. As I got to the circle I leapt and tackled lady moneybags to the ground, I was as careful as I could be not to step on or land on any of the women forming the circle. Now you might ask, why tackle her instead of using magic to stop her. Well the answer is simple, I didn't want to risk using magic and adding to the chaos that could potentially backfire on me, not to mention that all my wizardly focusing gear was in the jeep and without it anything more than the neat little spells I'd been casting would be really difficult and I didn't have the kind of time or energy to put into that right now.

Moneybags shrieked at the sudden impact of 185 lbs of all American wizard plowing into her like a wrecking ball. It wasn't the most subtle, or the most creative, or the safest way to sever her focus on the spell, but damn if it didn't work. The spell went haywire. Lightning bolts bounced all over the club and I took cover underneath of the aviator jacket as if it were bomb shelter, I also focused my will into all the various pieces of jewelry I was wearing brining my shield up around me. The shield spell was an old spell passed down through my family, each member of my family had worn a bracelet they used to focus the energy into a shield, but if the bracelet ever broke or was taken then you would be mostly defenseless, so I modified the spell to work in parts and I designed it to be focused through several points instead of just a bracelet in case one part broke or went missing I would still have a back up. I could feel lightning bolts bouncing off the jacket and my shield, it was like being hit with a stick and static shocked at the same time. I heard lady moneybags screaming. And then everything went silent. The music stopped, all the moans of the women had stopped, and lady moneybags wasn't screaming anymore.

Ever so slowly I poked my head out from under the jacket, the lights were dimmer and a few of them were flickering in and out of life. I got to my feet, whispering a word as I did. My will flowed through the word and freed my hands from the cuffs with the sounds of the locks clicking open. The cuffs fell to the floor with a muffled thud. I looked around; the club was wrecked and scorched. I checked each of the women to make sure they still had a pulse and were still breathing, and yes this did mean copping a feel or two, but it was for the greater good. All of the women were ok, they would be out for a little bit and when they woke up they would be really tired, they were after all basically being used as batteries. I checked on lady moneybags, but I didn't really need to because she was obviously dead. She had been deep fried and turned into a blackened husk. That's what happens when you let a nasty spell like that backfire on you, the sobering part of it was that if I'd been a few minuets later that blackened husk of a person would have been old man moneybags instead of his wife, sorry, former wife.

The cops and paramedics showed up not ten minuets after the spell backfired; no doubt the backlash had made a nice lightshow that the neighbors informed the police about. I made sure I was long gone by the time they got there, not just because I was riding around in a stolen car and wearing stolen clothing, but because I didn't really have a good lie to tell about why I was in a lesbian club and why I was the only one wearing clothes during the freak lightshow. So I split before the boys in blue got anywhere near the place. What can I say, me and the law have a love/hate relationship, it loves to make my life harder and I hate when it makes my life harder.

The next day I met up with Mr. Wellsworth at his giant house, he informed me that the cops uncovered all sorts of nasty secrets the misses had been hiding, credit card fraud, grand larceny, attempted murder, and three other husbands his age who had all mysteriously died of heart attacks. He thanked me over and over again, handed me another large check which he called a bonus, and then thanked me a few more times while he had Alfred fetch me a beer for the road, not that I'd drink it while driving; that would be irresponsible of me…

Later that day I returned to the parking lot of the shopping mall, I pulled the super nice impala into the space next to my crappy jeep. I grabbed the clip board from the impala glove box and my cell phone from my glove box. I found the number for Robin's Wings and dialed it. A man's voice answered the phone, it was deep and it had a slight southern drawl to it, how'd I know. "Robin's Wings."

"Uh hi, is this Robin?" I asked, this was going to be uncomfortable to say the least.

"Yeah this is Robin, what can I do for you?" he sounded like he was in his mid fifties.

"My name's Hank, I found your car, '67 cherry red impala right?" I could almost hear the man smile.

"You found her, where are you?"

"At the shopping mall where it was stolen, I'm the guy standing next to the crappy jeep parked next to your car, I'll be here when you get here" I said hanging up before he could ask anything else. About fifteen minuets later a cab dropped off a man that looked like he was in his mid fifties. He was as tall as me, but a good hundred pounds heavier, a combination of muscle and a comfortable living. His hair was short and turning grey, he sported a full beard too, and I suddenly got the feeling that I might have stolen a car from a retired Hell's Angel or something.

"You Hank?" he asked as he approached me. I was leaning against my jeep trying to look cool and patient.

"Yeah," I pushed myself off my jeep, "Robin I assume?"

"That's me," he saw his car and a smile erupted onto his face, "there's my baby!" seriously I thought he might hug the car. It was a little weird.

"Yeah, there she is" I said.

"How'd you find her?" he asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the car and leveling them onto me.

"Uh," I scratched at my head, "well I'm the one who stole her." Robin almost leapt across his car to choke the life out of me, but I could see him restraining himself.

"You what!" he barked, yeah this guy was so the wrong dude to steal from.

"Look I'm sorry, I'm a P.I. and I was working a case and I needed a set of wheels and your car was closest at the time." It was the truth, but I knew he didn't care, I'd stolen his car and that was all that mattered.

"I don't give a damn if the president told you to jack my car himself!"

"I know, and I'm sorry, but a man's life was in danger, your car helped me save him," I reached into my pocket and fished out the bonus check old man moneybags had given me, "look, I want to buy the car from you and the jacket." He took the check and his eyes got wide.

"You really saved this guy, and he gave you this much money?"

"Yep, and I couldn't have done it without your car, so I figure you deserve half of the profit." I took out the first check from old man moneybags and handed it to him. His jaw nearly dropped.

"Let me get this right; you stole my car, and now you want to pay me for letting you use it, and you want to buy it from me along with my jacket?"

"Yes, oh and the sunglasses too." I confirmed. Robin stared at me in disbelief.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Hank Kirby the 3rd" I answered. He smiled at me for a long moment. And then we talked about the situation that had led to me stealing his car and how the case had ended up for a good forty or so minuets, and then I drove home in my new cherry red 1967 Chevy Impala with my new jacket and a kickass pair of shades. See, things aren't always so bad.

THE END


End file.
